The Trials and Tribulations of the Heart
by Athenarena
Summary: Lucius had hidden the truth from Draco until his seventh year of Hogwarts. Draco is cursed with an old family secret. This secret drives him to new friends and new love. However what happens when you love a girl who hates him with a vengence? ON HIATUS.
1. Prologue

The Trials and Tribulations of the Heart

Prologue. 

**AN: **This is the new Escaping Heartbreak from the third person. I hope you all enjoy it and I hope that you find the improvements in this new story.

**Disclaimer: **I, Athenarena solemly swear that I own nothing and no rights to Harry Potter.

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The fire crackled in the hearth as the heat gave off lasted on a metre of two. The light bent away from the prone figure treading the expensive, Persian rug. Since that cold, wintry day that his wife had brought his son into this unforgiving world, he had prayed, nay desired that his curse would not be cast down to his son. For running through his veins was a curse that could end the very life of his only child, his son. Looking at his boy now, only months away from his seventeenth birthday, the man knew that he had inherited that same gene that had bloomed in him. His own father had bypassed it and the man was hoping his own son could bypass it as well but that was the sad fact of life.

This sort of curse, disease was not commonplace among his close circle. It was still as rare as the day it was discovered.

The world was quiet and for once it lay at the peace that Voldermort that been bent on destroying two years ago. For it was in Harry Potter's Fifth Year at Hogwarts that he had vanquished the Dark Lord himself and had freed this person's family and exonerated his name and those of his wife and son. The chains that had held him had been broken, the light that had been denied was released and more importantly his son was allowed to live a life of peace.

It was a few days after that victory that the figure had noticed the subtle changes in his son's appearance that had caused his heart to stop and then bleed for his son. He knew then, two years ago, that his boy, his little boy, was this thing, this monster to some. _I have failed as a father!_ Thought the man in desperation.

Oh, the guilt corrupted the man. He should have told his son a long time ago, that first time he was certain with every fibre in his being that his son had it. And for all the crimes and disappointments that gnawed away at this man, this was the one that kept him up at night, this was the one that destroyed him from the inside out every time he gazed at his son.

But now, now he would have to tell him, tell the light of his life the truth and the horror and his pride the life sentence and possibly death sentence now imposed on him. His mind's eye was already visualizing the scene when he told that boy, his reason to prosper and to live. Why, oh why could it not have skipped him? He was a nice child deep down in the depths of his soul and any wrong he had done in ignorance could be placed on his shoulders. For it was this man who taught him mud blood, it was him that taught him that blood mattered. But it didn't.

With tears streaking down his face, Lucius Malfoy turned to the full moon and sobbed, "I am so sorry Draco, I am sorry for what I have caused you."

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So what do you think?

Please review.

Athenarena


	2. Discovering what he truly is

The Trials and Tribulations of the Heart.

Chapter 1: Discovering what he truly is. 

**AN: **Thank you all for your warm support when I changed gears and rewrote this story. I am sorry for the delay, really sorry but I just moved and I have no internet in my new house. Working off school.

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* * *

The first thing one noticed about Draco was the platinum, almost white hair that adorned his head and fell to shadow his silvery grey eyes. His skin was pale with a rosy undertone. Draco Malfoy left nothing to the imagination; he could make a girl go weak in the knees. Thumbing through a book, in the main living room, Draco waited impatiently for his parents to walk through that door and tell him why they had called him down for this. His eyes often darted up at imaginary shadows or if he thought he heard the sound of a creak just outside the door. Finding it difficult to concentrate on anything Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly. What was taking so long?

The main living room was the centre of the Malfoy Manor. Prior the Voldermort's demise the room has been a centrepiece of dark deeds and deceptions. Now, the room had taken on her lighter tone. Colour adorned the room from the ceiling to the floor. There was a deep rouge undertone, which was glowing in the heat of the fire in the marble fireplace opposite the door that Draco was staring at. The carpet underneath his feet was a cream with a golden hue to it and the rug underneath depicted a Greek legend whose name had exited Draco's mind as it was flooded with the scenarios as to why his parents so desperately wanted to talk to him. Those scenarios ranged from he had done something a little wrong –ok, he had taken some money without asking, big whoop, they had enough- to the deadly. Scenes of a family member dead sent shivers down Draco Malfoy's spine, he had seen enough death already. He did not want to seen anymore.

Narcissa could scarcely believe what she was hearing. When she had married Lucius, she was aware of the gene that any child she bore to him _could _inherit but she was sure it had bypassed Draco. That had been her constant hope and prayer since she had given birth to him that stormy December night almost seventeen years ago. Now that prayer and hope were shattered. Lucius had just informed her that Draco had indeed inherited that gene.

All she wanted to do now was roll up into a ball and cry; her son had lost control of one of the most important decisions in his life. All she wanted to do was run to her son, hold him and protect him. Now, that maternal instinct had to be suppressed unnaturally, something Narcissa was passionately against do. This was her son and she should be allowed to do it, but she couldn't.

"Are you sure Lucius? Are you sure you are not making a mistake?" Her voice barely came above a whisper and her eyes were full of unshed tears.

Lucius sighed. This curse was affecting not only Draco but Narcissa and himself. Everything that had been planned, had to be shelved, dreams would have to be shattered and every hope that both had for their beloved son would have to be moulded and bent to fit this new reality. Everything had changed, the hand was no longer a royal flush but a pair of twos . His poor, poor boy. How Lucius had yearned to be false, that his eyes were losing their glint and he was mistaken. Nothing could have been further from the truth that now lay before them.

Looking deep into his wife's eye, Lucius replied, "I am not surer of anything else in this world than Draco has that gene, Draco is a veela and must be told, today. His seventeenth birthday is almost upon us and if he does not know he could find himself dead within a year."

Stifling a sob, Narcissa nodded and followed her husband into the sitting room where Draco was waiting, where he would soon find out the devastating truth.

* * *

When the door finally swung open, Draco could feel the impatient seep out of him and in the blink of an eye, return three-fold. The blood red seat he currently occupied was the stark opposite to his pasty skin. For when he saw his parents enter the room with sombre, melancholy expression, all the scenarios that had drifted into his head burst out of it again. What could have gone so wrong that it was causing the looks on their face? His mother was practically crying and his father was hunched with a look that screamed off guilt.

The first thing that Draco was aware of his was his mother striding towards in and pulling him close to her chest and sobbing. Even without the lack of air, Draco was not sure if he was to comfort his mother or she was trying to comfort him. Neither was a thought that Draco wanted to actively consider at this moment.

"Narcissa that is enough, the boy must be scared witless trying to figure all this out," his father's thoughts broke the uncomfortable silence and gave Draco's lungs the much needed air.

Narcissa stood back, and after a moment composing herself, looked like the proud mother that Draco loved and cherished. Seeing her so upset always hurt him and most importantly, hurt his father. Draco Malfoy had never seen a couple more completely and utterly in love than he had seen his parents. If true love existed, it existed in his parents. Narcissa was the next to speak and it was her words that knocked the breath out of him even though there was nothing constricting its passage. Sitting down besides it and running her fingers through his platinum blonde hair, Narcissa began.

"Draco, your father and I have never been completely honest with you or with ourselves. In this family, there is a gene that carries a certain defect. It is hard to say who gets it; it bypassed your grandfather but neither your father nor now, you. Draco this day was no something your father or I ever wanted to happen but it has. I am so sorry Draco but you are a veela. Draco, you are only half but you are still a veela."

Suddenly the world started to spin and the colours started to blur as Draco's mind tried to take in and then repeal the information his mother had given him. Him, a veela? A freaking veela?! How could this happen? Draco was adamant that there was no veela blood in the family blood, in the family name or honour. How wrong he was. His mind was buzzing with a thousand questions and stung at him at every chance. Draco felt on fire, stabs of pain shooting through his body as the word veela reverberating over and over again. Veela, veela, he was a god-damn veela!

"No!' Draco roared, 'it cannot be, I cannot be a veela. Please tell me this is a joke, some kind of prank. I cannot be one, not a veela. Oh god!"

Gripping his mother as anger, fear and despair coursed through his body, Draco locked eyes with his father and it was only the slightest of nods from the latter sent any last hope Draco had into the pits of Tarturus.

"I am so sorry son but it is true. The Malfoy line has been steeped in Veela blood since your great-great-great grandfather fell in love and married one. How I wished it was bypass you and you would never know the symptoms of this curse. You have the strength and may you have the luck to find your mate and be as happy in life as I was lucky to be," spoke Lucius.

Wobbling to his feet, Draco stumbled forward as he tried to stop himself from passing out. Staring at his father before glancing at his mother, Draco just stormed out of the room so that his emotions –at fever pitch at the moment- did not cause him to lash out at his parents. All the control in his life was racing through his fingers and no matter how hard he tried to grasp it, it fell faster and harder than before. Draco was losing his slip on control, something he utterly abhorred. It was the one thing he was able to control himself and when that power was taken away, Draco felt absolutely worthless, like a child in a corner being ignored.

Running to his sanctuary of his bedroom, Draco removed himself from the world as he tried to get his head straight and allow the devastating news creep in and be accepted. His distressed parents watched him go and gave him the space and the freedom he would need to get all this into his head and to sort what to do with his life. It was out of their hands and in the hands of a boy that was lost, searching for the exit but all the exits were shut, locked and padlocked on the outside.

He would drown or he would take on board this information and scrap out a new life, a better life. His true friends would emerge, every ideal he had believed and followed would be destroyed and most importantly, he would change, he had to change. Being a veela always changed someone, you were alluring and seductive without trying and the attention could confuse a person mentally. Draco faced a steep climb to finding himself and his saving grace or murderer, his mate.

* * *

Lucius was expecting such a reaction. He was relieved no violence had occurred but he was not naïve enough to envision that Draco would be bouncing off the walls in happiness. Draco was not aware of his situation and although it was an impossible situation to be in, he had to know to stand a chance. Lucius Malfoy would bleed, die for his family but he was powerless to help Draco here. Shortly after discovering he was a veela, he was lucky enough to meet his mate, Narcissa. Life had been simple to him but a gut instinct deep in him told him it would be much harder for his son. He would protect and aid Draco as much as he could and Narcissa would do anything for her son, there was a reason she was a great mother and those instincts were one of those reasons.

Lucius prayed that all would turn out for the best for his son. Draco deserved –in his eyes- that chance he had when he met Narcissa. Clutching Narcissa as closely as he could, Lucius could just about stop the tears from falling for his son and said:

"All will be well; there is a fire in him that will help him preserver and find his chosen mate. But for now all we can do is support him and aid him as best we can. May he have my luck and may he have your gentle soul. They will get him his mate. May he be watched over until he does."

Kissing Narcissa gently on the forehead, Lucius left for his study to contemplate how best to help Draco find his mate. Information was key, Lucius could not remember where he had left that book he had bought for Draco for this moment. Sighing, Lucius cupped his head in his hands and wished this was all a bad dream, that he would wake up and Draco had not inherited the gene. Pinching himself, Lucius knew it was real. Why did this have to happen to Draco?

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	3. The Smell was the Catalyst

The Trials and Tribulations of the Heart

Chapter 2: The smell was the catalyst. 

**AN: **I am so sorry this took so long but I had writer's block, I was ill and was swamped with work. But here is the next chapter.

**Thank you to: **The Agonist, Youaremylifenow1, zcubed, jenniluz, jessirose85, voldyismyfather and Enilas for their reviews.

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* * *

The two weeks that followed the announcement that Draco was in fact a veela had been the two tensest weeks in the Malfoy Manor since the fall of Voldermort two years prior. Draco had withdrawn from life and was now seen either wondering aimlessly through the gardens or holed up in his room. When his parents came within hearing distance of him, they could hear muffled profanities and sobs coming from his room and when they dared glance at him, they only saw a paper cut out of the former Draco. His skin was thin and translucent, his hair matted and greasy, his eyes red, dry and able to hold any sort of contact. He had become fidgety and listless and would often just pick at food instead of eating. Draco was slowly eroding away, no matter what his parents tried to do, no fuse in his brain could be ignited and Draco did not seem to want to live.

At their wits ends and nearing the end of the holidays, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy forced Draco to take a long bath and to eat a full meal. When questioned by their son, they just smiled and left the room, leaving a clueless boy behind. School books still needed to be collected and what better place to start looking than in Diagon Alley? However, his parents did not want him to meet his future mate looking and smelling like a homeless person.

* * *

To say that Draco was indifferent to what was occurring to him or his parents' schemes would have been a gross understatement. The body was there, the mind and soul departed since the day he had discovered that he was a veela. Slowly, a translucent mist has incorporated where his soul had dwelled. Little by little, the mist had devoured his mind and now he was abandoned on a desert island. Knowing that this was a lifelong problem and sitting around moping was not an option. However, Draco liked the ideal of moping just for a little longer until fate threw him a bone and he met his mate. Then and only then could he use his calculating mind to fully pursue her.

Lounging in the bath, Draco stared at the crystalline ceiling looming overhead. Draco Malfoy could not deny how relaxing and how good it felt to be submerged in water and have the problem dangle beyond the crevices of the invisible barrier that was the boundary of the bath. Sinking further into the lukewarm water, Draco almost submerged himself in water and as his muscles unwound all the tension from the past two weeks and was sure that the dark matter that had consumed him totally contracted just a little and left a tiny glow of his former self.

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Narcissa watched her husband fiddle with his thumbs. In front of him sat Draco's letter from Hogwarts. The bulkiness and sheer weight of it suggested to her that there was more than just a letter. This letter was –to them- the key to opening the door to allowing Draco to find his mate or to give him the respite from the pressure that the new-found information had enfolded on his shoulders.

Narcissa watched her husband finger the letter before turning his head to gaze at his wife. Their minds seemed to be on a similar wavelength. Pricking her ears for the familiar tread of her son's plodding down the stairs, all she heard was silence, pure silence. Fidgeting slightly, Narcissa bore into the door leading to the hallway where Draco had passed through not an hour prior when they had forced him to go up and have a bath.

Slowly, as each minute stretched out and although it felt like each one was an hour, the sound of his step echoed above. Allowing a small smile to grace her lips, Narcissa stood up and glancing once at her husband, flowed across the room to open the door to allow Draco in. Smiling brightly at her son when he came in, she could see a small glimmer of the person her son used to be. It was small, so tiny that it could be mistaken for something else but she was sure it was there.

Draco was staring at the letter on the table. The green stamp on the corner said what it had spoken earlier. Hogwarts. Swiping it off the table, Draco opened it with a speed that had been absent from his movements for the past two weeks. Unto his pale fingers fell a badge, Draco had been named Head Boy. The first bright spark in what had been a bleak outlook so far and a bleak past two weeks had been lit.

Moving his eyes from his parents, Draco held out the badge and a small smile lit his face, although did not reach his eyes fully. Speaking for the first time in what seemed like a century, Draco spoke to his parents.

"I have been named Head Boy. I need to go to Diagon Alley to collect my books for the school year."

"Well done son. Go, go get your books but be back for dinner,' Lucius responded whilst passing a bag of galleons to Draco, 'this should cover all the costs."

Nodding his head, Draco took the bag and after counting all the galleons said "it is more than enough father, thank you."

Without another word, Draco turned on his heel and strode out of the room. The only sound that entered the room was the roar of the flames as Draco used floo powder to go to Diagon Alley.

* * *

Coughing, Draco stumbled out of the fireplace. Dusting himself down, Draco made sure there was not an inch of dust anywhere over him. Standing straight up, Draco peered –with steely grey eyes- as he entered the chaos of Diagon Alley.

In the two years since Voldermort had been rightly –in Draco's mind- slaughtered, Diagon Alley had become a world of colour and joy. All around an atmosphere of light happiness and relief had settled. The air was sweet and a mannerly joy had seeped into the people that buzzed around the Alley. It created an antidote to the black mass that occupied his soul. Relief and a momentary uplifting entered and filled Draco. Diagon Alley was buzzing and Draco could barely move a few centimetres without being sandwiched between wizards and witches. Every colour was blurring in front of Draco's eyes and the smell of ice-cream made Draco's mouth water and his hungry stomach grumble in protest.

Firstly –after some ice-cream of course- Draco ambled through Diagon Alley collecting every scrap and every item that he would need to successfully undertake his final year at the historic Hogwarts. The final stop on his search was Flourish and Blotts. The last few hours eating ice-cream, focusing on his school books and stationary had breathed fresh life into him. Not once had he thought of the gene he had inherited or that all choices when it came to love and family he had once possessed had been swept away by one foul sweep. Refreshing was a complete understatement to how Draco Malfoy had felt in those few hours of blissful ignorance. Now, outside the door of Flourish and Blotts, he felt the growth bubble up inside of him.

Sometimes, when he thought about his future and what it had in essence become, Draco could only see hopelessness. However, that old stubborn steak in him never allowed him to give in or allow the crushing weight overbear and cause him to do something in a moment of madness that would destroy all that around him emotionally.

Pushing opening the door, the jangle of the brass bell overhead pierced the stagnant air surrounding him. Fumbling in his pockets, -after several moments and several curse words- Draco was able to pull his book list from the dark corner of his cape. Unfolding the tattered paper –he never understood how he could do that in such few hours but he did- Draco peered down the booklist. Staring around the antique shop, Draco could see no other person save the old owner and a youngish girl sleeping awake at the counter, gently tapping her fingers against the aging oak of the counter.

Treading slowly across the carpeted floor, Draco began ploughing through the nooks and crannies of the stuffy, crowded aisles of this homely bookstore in Diagon Alley. This shop had furnished generations upon generations of children with the books that enhanced the teachings of magic students.

Time sped past and before Draco could count to five the clock in the further corner of the shop chimed a dime a dozen for six a clock. The sounds startled Draco out of his reverie. He had spent the last few hours diligently searching for each and every book on that darn booklist, ticking off each mentally slowly and carefully. Draco Malfoy was a cautious boy and did not want to be laughed out for forgetting to but a book. His arms were weighed down by his books. He felt like he was carrying Mt. Everest. Grunting, Draco pulled the books painfully –his shoulders ached and his muscles roared with pain- and was just about to head towards the counter and give the attendant a much needed distraction when it hit him.

A spilt second and that was all it took. First it was subtle, an underlining scent but as soon as he turned the corner the scent was flung straight at his face. A scent so alluring and deceptive, it felt to Malfoy that is was a drug and this was a first fix that would hook him for life. He wanted to smell it again and find the owner, never letting them out of his sight until he closed them for the last time when he said goodbye to this duplicitous world.

In slow motion, Draco felt salvia flood his mouth and his arms sink all the books to the floor. The sound of neither the smash of the books nor the not-too soft curse of the girl entered his closed ears.

He was trapped and enwrapped. He was at the edge of ecstasy and he wanted to go over that edge into the arms of the owner of that scent. The scent largely of strawberry, with light undertones of caramel and vanilla with a hint of chocolate was for lack of better words to his fuzzled mind driving him absolutely insane. Stretching out his pale fingers he groped out and began blindly searching for the owner of that alluring smell. Fumbling around –using his nose like a sniffer dog to find the owner-, Draco was confounded when he discovered there was no-one in the shop save the employees, employer and himself. Who was that smell? He knew in his hearts of hearts, that the wearer of that intoxicating fragrance was his mate; he wanted to hunt it down, consume and own it. His mate, his soul mate, his one ticket out of hell. Just finding out who it was, was like finding a needle in a haystack but Draco was determined.

Meekly paying for his books –as to not incite anymore anger- which he was surprised to see were still in next to mint condition seeing as he had dropped them all in such a hurry. Charging home, Draco could not deny the goofy smile that had burst forth onto his face. He was a man in love, but he had no idea with whom. A scent, a fragrance was not a lot, not a little to go on. But it was all he had and his starting point. Now, just to find it and find it he shall.

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What you think?

Please review.

Athenarena.


	4. Discovering his mate

The Trials and Tribulations of the Heart

Chapter three: Discovering his mate.

**AN: **Sorry for the long delay! I have had exams and have only got the time now to finish this chapter. I hope this is up to the high standard I want to give you all. Thank you so much for your patience and waiting. Your nice words help me so much. You all are the greatest. Thank you for your support from the bottom of my heart.

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**Thank you to: **wallflower009, Youaremylifenow1, jenniluz, mentarisenja, project gotham, vamp_twilight_harry_potter_fan_ever , Avanell, Enilas and voldyismyfather for your reviews.

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**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter. The name is not J.K. Rowling, I am only borrowing.

Please review and tell me what you think.

* * *

Draco drummed his fingers against the arm of the antique, plush chair. After the incident at Flourish and Blotts, Draco was impatiently awaiting his father to discuss with him why he had reacted so violently to a smell. Every logical cell in his brain told him that he could react in a similar matter –although in a more dignified manner- if he saw his mate face to face. But a smell? _Is it because the veela blood has a violent reaction to it? Is it because the smell holds something, something ethereal, something mysterious that my veela blood craves? _A click of leather shoes against hardwood floor alerted Draco to the fact that his father was approaching and was close to running. Running? Draco knew his father never run, he always walked with a steady, calm gait with his head held high, oozing of power. Whatever his mother had uttered to his father prior to cause him to throw aside what he had spent a life perfecting.

The door flung open and there is the midst of an unkempt fury, his father threw himself across the threshold before recomposing himself. Lucius paced up to his imposing dark cedar gently inlaid in a floral pattern and promptly sat down boring into Draco before beginning to speak.

"Your mother said you wanted to speak to me son. She stressed it was of the upmost importance. So son what do you need to talk to me about?"

"Father, I smelt something today in Flourish and Blotts and the reaction, well it startled me to have such a reaction to a smell. Do you know what this means father?" Draco asked.

"The smell is a catalyst, like love at first sight but more violent. The veela in you knows who your mate is to be and if you do not see this person but catch a whiff of their unique bodily smell, not any old perfume it will have the same reaction. It is because you are being drawn to the one person who has control over whether you live or die. Being a veela means you are bound to one person, your mate or if they reject you, the grave. That is why the reaction is so strong, so violent because the effects of what transpires with this person are greater," Lucius explained.

Draco let out a small puff of air and mulled over the words that had drifted from his father's mouth. It seemed so logical yet so absurd. It was so simple yet so complex.

"Father, I am sorry but it makes no sense. One should not have such a reaction even if a veela. I just do not get it," Draco sighed, he was exhausted and wanted to go to bed.

"You never get it Draco but you learn to accept it. But know the person who can do that to you is the one, your mate. You just have to accept it. I am sorry son but sometimes life makes no sense and this is part of it. My reason was the one my father gave me which his father gave him in case he changed but that never happened. It is the best we Malfoys have to something we do not know about," Lucius spoke with a hint with a smile, more than likely reminiscing about his encounter with his own father.

"So, because I am a veela and my soul mate has control over my life or death, I had this reaction?" Draco questioned.

A simple nod was his only response. Exasperated, Draco asked for permission to leave, which was granted. He stormed off to his room. _It makes no bloody sense and I am just to accept it. Agh! I know I have to but logic says this does not happen. I just want to wake up. _Draco's thoughts raged like a tumultuous sea not ready to calm down before he banged into his room only a few metres from the study.

The door reverted back into the crevice of the doorframe from the amount of violence Draco had used on it. It was as if the door was a punching bag and Draco was using it liberally. Anger, confusion, a feeling of impotency was coursing through him. Begrudgingly he would have to accept the information.

Centre of his room, his bed lay majestically with the sheets all twisted and tight from a restless night prior. Tonight would be just as restless if not more tonight with the new information being processed in his mind. Draco was exhausted; he had not got a good night's sleep in weeks, ever since he had discovered he was a veela. Many would have thought that he should have just accepted it as it was his fate, it was not changeable. But there was a small, albeit childish part wanted to believe he was trapped in a long nightmare and he would wake up in a moment and this would all be gone. How foolish it was he knew, but there was no other option, no plan B except find and woo the girl or boy –he really abhorred this side of the veela, that it was not gender selective- who was his mate.

Changing quickly and crawling into his bed, Draco tossed and turned until he found a comfortable spot –that was cold- to sleep a few hours away. The bags under his eyes and the dark circles were becoming more pronounced and Draco –a man obsessed with his looks- needed to get rid of them and fast. Slipping into a light sleep after trying to drift off for an hour, Draco was not hounded by dreams or misshapen faces calling to him. The smell lingered in his memory, ever burnt into his brain. Sleep was thick and deep, which no penetrating twisted moment of his day could break the darkness. To Draco it was bliss.

* * *

Birds chirping and the warm kiss of the sun rays on his pale cheeks were the first things that filtered into Draco's room the following morning. The air was still and quiet descended on the room, peace for once was surrounding Draco although he was asleep while this was happening. From the door his mother watched, remembering that dark, stormy December night when she brought him into the world and held him close to her, the feeling of overwhelming love for that tiny bundle, her tiny bundle. Now staring at him, that love overwhelmed her again.

Narcissa Malfoy was proud of one thing in her life and that was her son. She knew he had been struggling with the overload of information –necessary but harsh- that had been placed on him in the last few weeks. When Lucius had told her that Draco had discovered his mate, she had seen the light at the end of the tunnel. Watching Draco peacefully sleeping had reinforced that idea. There was a glimmer of hope, of luck, of justice –in her slightly biased eyes-. Now the future could begin. But she would have to wake Draco up first.

Crossing the room with a confident, silent gait, Narcissa placed her hand on Draco's shoulder and gently shook him to rouse him. Smiling softly when her son groan and buried himself further in the pillow, Narcissa shook him again and spoke.

"Draco, hunny you have to get up. You leave for Hogwarts today. The house elves have packed your bag. Your badge is on the table. We floo in twenty minutes."

Draco's eyes shot open and Narcissa knew she had done her job. Smirking she exited the room just as quietly as she had entered while Draco entered panic mood.

Draco needed to have a shower, get dressed and groom his hair. God damn moments like this for high maintenance men like Draco. Hopping in and out of a freezing shower in a miniscule amount of time, Draco began to dig through his messy room just to find something decent to wear. Muttering several colourful words and several minutes of searching, Draco finally found under a pile of god knows what –although the shower had woken him, he was still bleary eyed- some decent clothing. Dressing quicker than one could say magic, Draco sprinted that the stairs and was in front of the fireplace ready to floo with two minutes to spare.

His father was already there and dressed –looking nowhere as near as flustered or tired as Draco did- patiently leaning against the fireplace, fingertips idly tapping against the marble coated mantel. His mother was late, "fashionably late" as she put it. There was no creaking of the tainted floorboards covered in luxurious carpet or the screech of the door as his mother pushed it in. No sound, it was just silent, so silent that the sound of any raindrop falling would be as clear as a bomb exploding. Minutes passed by slowly.

Finally his mother strode into the room fussing over some little detail. His suitcase lay perpendicular to the fireplace with his jet black -with a grey undertone- owl –Selene after the Greek Goddess of the moon- perched snugly on top. His badge wedged deeply into the pocket of his jeans.

His mind wondered to who exactly was the Head Girl. It was unlikely that it would be Slytherin –half the girls would not count for the Head Girl as they were too ditzy for it-, it was more than likely Hermione Granger who was by far the most superior choice. Although she was a muggle born, Draco truly, truly felt that she was a good, brave, wonderful girl. As his parents were spies for the Dark Lord Voldermort, Draco had to give into his ideals and hate all muggle born. In truth, if one could prove that they were worthy of using magic be it muggle or pureblood –like Hermione had- they gain his respect. Now the ashes of the War had pushed that ideal back onto the surface. If Hermione Granger was Head Girl he vowed to treat her better and try and befriend her. It was a new start this year and because as a veela, his life had been turned around and a new friend would be something quite beneficial in his life. Yes, he would try to get to know her better.

Everything that passed from the Floo to entering the train was so natural and second nature to Draco that doing them had left no impact on him. He never took in the red metallic sleek of the Hogwarts train or the cold and depressing wall that brooded over the secret and hidden platform. It was all too familiar to Draco therefore he skimmed over it, depositing his trunk in a carriage with his two friends Pansy and Blaise, with a firm promise that after meeting the Head Girl he would come back and tell them all about who she was and his summer.

Walking at an even pace, Draco walked up to the Head compartment, his curiosity almost at breaking point when he cautiously entered the room and to his horror it was empty but a smell lingered in the room. A smell that had been haunting every hour of his day, every moment of his waking hours, it was the smell from the bookshop Flourish and Blotts. His mate was the Head Girl! For once it seemed that luck was on his side, caressing his troubles so that they were manageable. Placing himself quickly on the seat closest to him, Draco began to fidget and counting the seconds until she, whoever she was entered the room.

Soon –but to Draco it seemed like eternity- the door on the right side of the door, a door Draco had not noticed before opened to reveal the Head Girl. Standing up with shaking legs and trembling arms, Draco finally saw his mate, the woman who he would have to share the rest of his life with and to say he was shocked was to say the least, a major understatement. It was Hermione Granger standing in the doorframe. Draco felt his brain shut down and once everything went black and with the shock, Draco fainted clean away.

* * *

Note: Selene was the goddess that was the moon and Artemis was the goddess of the moon but not the moon itself. So technically they are both goddesses of the moon. That is just to clear everything up for those who might be aware of the Greek goddess Artemis or some classical knowledge. Nice little new fact for all those who did not know that.

* * *

What do you think?

Please review.

Athenarena


	5. Plans to start the seduction

The Trials and Tribulations of the Heart

Chapter 4: Plans to start the seduction. 

**AN: **Sorry for the long delay. I wanted to get this out before Christmas but my school kept me in until the 23rd of the December so a very belated Merry Christmas and may 2010 hold everything you want it too.

**Thank you to: **jenniluz, RandomObsessivePyschoFangirl, all4edward, mydirt09, winchestergrl13, teekim17, Avanell, OrangeJuice7, POM- frenchreader, project gotham, imobsessedwithharrypotter, voldyismyfather, KatherineLynn, Enilas and Jazii26 for their reviews.

**Thank you to: **ComeSomedaySoon, hcamfan, imobsessedwithharrypotter, KatherineLynn, krr84, lenny12, LilyA. Lupin, lizziebug, Nymphie07, painturgurl, warm summer days, xXJoadXx, teekim17, all4edward, mydirt09, RandomObsessivePychoFangirl and the Silence of Heartbreak for their story alerts.

**Thank you to: **boatdrinks44, jessgold94, kama674, slytheringryff, tark914 and imtickledpink for favouriting my story.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of these characters. J.K. Rowling owns them.

**Review and tell me what you think. **

* * *

Light, blinding light was all that surrounded Draco. His sense were out of sync, a sound reached his ear seconds after it had been created or a trigger of nerves would be enter his brain seconds after it had occurred. He was utterly dazed and disorientated with the sound of a thousand bees humming inside his head stinging him at certain moments just when the blood had returned to the situation. It almost felt like an outer body experience although Draco could feel every sense, hear every noise and smell every scent that was reaching his nose. He was in and out of his body.

A sound entered his ear just as his outer body experience was starting to come to an end. His movements and senses were gelling back into one entity as they were before he had passed out in the Heads' Carriage. At first the sound was nothing but a droning, a buzzing sound that hit the back of his head and then quickly left. When the sound was thus, he did not react to it, preferring to stay in his lit realm. However, as time slowly past and the sound was repeated it began to sound more and like English. The vowels became elongated and the consonants became more pronounced. The sounds of both came together and finally the word was understandable. The Head Girl was calling his name. The Head Girl was Hermione. He had fainted in front of Hermione?! His mate?! If Draco could groan at that moment all sound barriers would have been broken.

Blinking slowly and slightly dazed Draco started to focus his thoughts. Since the Famous Three of Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had discovered Draco Malfoy had been a double agent and spy for the Order of the Phoenix two years prior just days prior to the downfall of Voldermort the four had shared a begrudging respect. The war and the fall of the world's most evil wizard had caused a major shift in Draco's mind frame. Now he did not see Hermione as an inferior witch because of her blood, he now believed -although reluctantly- that she was a superior witch. However, he could not erase five years of abuse and torment at his hands from her memory. There was a wall between them and now that was placing him on a dangerous edge of a knife in which one slip would cost his life.

A slightly perspiring hand firmly squeezed his own frozen hand and was starting to haul him up. With the help, Draco stumbled to his feet and stared into the hazel eyes of the woman he would spend the rest of his life with or die. Those eyes bewitched him, mesmerised him and happily he would have walked into a pit of fire and Empire scorpions just to gaze into those eyes.

Now firmly on his feet –although swaying slightly every other moment- he felt the weight of the hand lessen and lead him to the couch. Slumping down on the luxurious couch emblazed with the Hogwarts crest with golden thread, Draco spoke quickly coming up with a white lie to cover why he had fainted. Knowing that Hermione would ask why he had fainted as was her manner. She was quite a polite young woman –which Draco liked immensely- but she was curious and Draco wanted to keep his secret a secret a little longer.

"My sincerest thanks Hermione for your help. I missed breakfast this morning by accident. I overslept and had no time," his speech was eloquent and no stuttering.

Hermione seemed to take it and with a slight nod of her head and turned to face the door as if waiting patiently for somebody else to walk through. She looked slightly awkward, speaking finally after clearing her throat.

"Your welcome Draco, it was the least I could do. You should eat; you will need your strength. Professor McGonagall will be here soon to tell us of our duties," Hermione spoke gently eyeing Draco warily. That wall between the two of them was starting to infuriate Draco. He had to break it to get her, he would have to seduce her, woo her, charm her to break it and then make her his. If nothing, it would be the preservation of his life.

* * *

Hermione might have been watching the door, but she was also watching Draco. Draco Malfoy, competition in the classroom –although she repeatedly bested him, she could not deny that Draco was a gifted boy-, reluctant ally, cocky and the bully of Hogwarts.

When she had received the letter confirming her as Head Girl one of the first things she had done –after squealing and enthusiastically hugging Ron and Harry- was to ponder who would be the Head Boy. Hermione was a practical girl and also desired to be one step ahead of others as to ensure no disasters would happen. Control was a thing that had been missing in Hermione's first five years and now she respected and preserved it as often as she could especially when she was in a role of power such as prefect and now Head Boy.

As she had been pondering one name had come up over and over again during her musings, Draco Malfoy. Why not? He came from a powerful magical family, a rival house –Dumbledore was a man on a mission for unity between the houses, which was idealistic in Hermione's eyes- and was the best male student in seventh year. Such a logical thought now had Ron and Harry waiting anxiously in their carriage further down the train. She had been right and now felt on edge.

She hated and respected Draco. Such a contradiction was something that she hated. He was simple and complex. It annoyed her to no end. But she would not allow animosity to rule her while they were heads. There would be peace or she would be damned. Knowing the course of action she was striving for with him caused her to relax a little –although Draco did not notice the lowering of her shoulders, her back becoming just a little less straight and her eyes become less focused- and it was then that professor McGonagall walked into the carriage where the air was heavier than lead because of the tension to explain to the two students there their role.

* * *

Less than an hour later, the other Prefects –two from each house- came in. Professor McGonagall had explained one of their duties was to lead the Prefects and organise the Prefects for their nightly tours of the castle to ensure that no rules were being broken or any students were out of bed. She had stressed equality and fairness, in other words one house or two students could not be doing all the work. The work had to be spread. It was at this point, professor McGonagall bored into Draco and then left without another word. Her eyes had said everything. She was not a woman to cross, although Draco had crossed a few –seven to be exact- times.

The Prefects were filled pride and fear. They were in no-man's land and facing challenges new. _Fear was a healthy thing to be feeling to be having, it keeps you on your toes and your senses sharp_ Draco thought. Settling back into his seat, he was being lulled by the words coming from Hermione's tongue.

Her being his mate was having serious effects on him. He was seduced by anything that was to do with her, which had become inexplicable to him. He had respected Hermione prior and they were no longer enemies and had petty fights but he had never been lured by her. Even his father's shallow attempt of an answer had not helped with the rapid and instant change. A mystery surrounded him and somehow he wanted to be plunged deeper and deeper into it for her. Her voice was like honey to his ears, melting all resistance and all hope of ever arguing with her. If –no, when Draco strictly reprimanded himself- Hermione became his mate, she would be the one who would be dominant and Draco due to Veela blood coursing through his veins would be very happy to give her control. _Anything that keeps me alive _he thought.

There was silence as Hermione had finished her talk to the Prefects about what they were expected to do. They were to take patrols every night, take note of any suspicious behaviour happening in the Houses and to report it to their Heads of Houses or the Head Girl and Boy. Most importantly they were to set an example for other studies such as doing their work on time and not breaking any rules.

"Any questions?" Draco questioned.

Hermione whipped her head around, eyed Draco with one eyebrow raised before nodding and setting herself down beside Draco. _She is showing an united front, clever, _Draco thought concealing the smirk knowing he had found a trait of Hermione's he could use to his advantage. She would always put the best foot forward after taking stock of the pros and cons. When she made a decision, she stuck to it. A strong woman, a stubborn woman and a stubborn woman never admits defeat. Something about her he would use. Force her into a corner while still believing she was winning. Tough yes but Draco always preferred a challenge.

As expected there were no questions and two Prefects began their patrolling of the train and would be switched in an hour. Hermione and Draco left without saying a word to each other.

For two such different –and similar- people, their friends reacted the same way to their partner Head. There was shock, horror and jokes. Slamming the two of them together was like slamming war and peace together. They did not go. Bets were already being put in place on how long before they two would kill each other. The favourite one was a week. Laughing at the bets, Draco was holding another one in his head. He wanted to have Hermione as his girlfriend before the end of the year or very nearly his girlfriend.

Hermione had never come across as a woman who would date, in fact he had never seen her date anybody. There had been that ball in Fourth Year but that had not lasted past the night as far as he could see.

Picking up his trunk after promising his friends that he would follow them out as soon as possible. His mind was in a whirl and he needed a moment to calm down. Staring out the window, Draco just concentrated on his breath for a few moments before turning around and leaving.

Just behind him he could hear the combined voices of The Golden Three and stepped aside so that he could see all three in his peripheral. Hermione was in the middle and what he saw next killed his heart and hurt his head. Anger, hurt, betrayal but most importantly helplessness ran through him. For there was Hermione with Ron's arm around her waist and in the blink of an eye he was kissing her.

His heart constricted in his chest until all he could feel was pain, full pain, and crippling pain. He wanted to cry, wanted to curl into a ball and cry until he could not cry anymore. His body was weak and he just wanted fall to the floor as if all the bones in his body had become jelly and nothing was holding him up. It was confusing as hell as Hermione was not his but she was his mate and controlled him especially his feelings.

Tears were forthcoming but he used all his control to keep them from coming. The anger that was coursing through his veins caused him to think one thing; Ronald Weasley could not count Hermione as his girlfriend for very long. Draco would make sure of it.

* * *

**What do you think?**

**Please review. **

**Athenarena**


	6. A Costly Mistake

The Trials and Tribulations of the Heart

Chapter 5: A costly mistake

**AN: **I am alive! I am so sorry I have not been updating. I have had no time and writers block. Also I was sick so I have had only now the opportunity to put this up.

**Thank you to: **Youaremylifenow1 (chapters 3 and 4), teekim17, voldyismyfather, kaylamarie2012, project gotham, Enilas, Jazii26 and Avanell for their reviews.

**Thank you to: **cantarbailar, gyrlfrend, JollyPen, kaylamarie2012, lanthis, SlytherinSierra001, haruhi dreaming of 7, penguinluver17, witchhunterlady, Ladie Pixie and Mngd567 for their story alerts.

**Thank you to: **LuciusM101, Raven'sSpirit BlackBlood and dracosere for making my story a favourite story.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything. I write for enjoyment of myself and my fans. I make no money out of it or have any rights to the Harry Potter copyright.

Please review and tell me what you think.

* * *

When Draco was a boy, the sight of the medieval castle rising up to conquer the sky, surrounded by a tranquil –except for the monster lurking underneath the murky water-, freezing lake had caused his heart to rapidly beat. He was always in awe of Hogwarts and how majestic it was and so effortlessly. It was a relaxant to Draco Malfoy although he never showed it. Now, now he had no solace in the sight that had been a comfort away from home.

The image of Hermione –his mate- kissing that boy, that Weasley had incurred more emotion in a second than he had felt over the last two years. He had wanted to kill Weasley for the audacity –as it had felt under a hazed mind- of kissing her. However, on the ride from the station to the castle, I re-evaluated what had happened. Truthfully, although Ronald Weasley was Draco's inferior intellectually he was his superior in the way he had treated Hermione. For six years Ron Weasley had supported, respected and treated Hermione well. Draco had abused, her called her names including the horrid mudblood. He had downgraded her and pretending to despise her. For a year on after the downfall of Voldermort, they had bother kept their distance and been respectful but cautious around each other.

Draco knew if he was going to win Hermione from under the nose of this thing –in Draco's eye- the first thing he would have to do is become Hermione's friend. When the trust was in place, he would stalk out Ron Weasley to discover a fatal flaw in the relationship to which he could pick at to unravel that which stood in his way. There were other childish methods but to Draco who preferred to methodical approach that was sure proof and ensure his place in Hermione's heart, mind and soul. Then he would have his mate and his life. But he would make her his friend first for the lack of intelligent conversation had started to gnaw at his nerves.

Rubbing his eyes –for the gentle rolling of the carriage he was in was lulling him to sleep- Draco stared out into the pitch black night. What could he call his relationship with Hermione as that moment? He could never place them. One moment they were enemies, and then reluctant allies but never friend or lovers or anything that black or white. Their relationship was in the grey area of human relationships. Of course, he was ecstatic that he had received Hermione as a mate. A smart, pretty, feisty mate who was female was perfect. When he had seen her and smelt her scent the shock had caused his brain to shut down. Now he was embarrassed at it.

Friendship for now that would do very well. But how to get there? Slowly but surely a plan that was –to Draco whose ego did sometimes exaggerate things- fool-proof. Crossing his fingers leisurely across his lap and leaned his head back so that the rhythm of the coach, almost lulling him to sleep.

* * *

Hermione was mulling. Her friends in the carriage with her could not hold her attention too long when her brain had clicked into gears. Draco was the spring that had sprung the gear. Hermione was at first confused. She had thought up her plan of action hours ago as was her way. However, his behaviour in the carriage had been too unusual. He had been complacent and too quick to agree with her. Was he trying to be nice? A new leaf for Draco was a wonderful and refreshing but this was a complete turn around with a single clue. It was confusing and that did not sit well with Hermione. When things were confusing and blurred, it irked Hermione's logical mind. However, she also was aware that is how Draco had irked her so much before he had become a spy for the Order of the Phoenix two years ago.

_Two years? Has it really been two years since Lord Voldermort was killed? It feels so much longer, a lifetime away, a blurry memory in the back of my mind. _Hermione thought. Turning her head to stare at the piercing black night, and with a sigh she pushed Draco Malfoy to the back of her mind. Draco could be the petty one in the Head Dorms. She would not allow this pettiness to undermine her and become her. No, she would play him at his own game without him knowing. She was –although marginally- like Draco in that certain aspect; sly and cunning. Although that was something she would often deny.

Smirking on the inside with a grin any Malfoy would have been proud with, Hermione turned to her friends –with a calm face- and began discussing the upcoming –and their final- year.

* * *

If Draco Malfoy had been paying a slight attention, he would have noticed the over optimism of Dumbledore's speech or the lack of a moral profound message in the Hat's song. He missed the faces of fear, anxiety, joy, confusion on the baby-faces of the new First Years. His mind was blank, his eyes unfocused, his ears closed and his lips set in a thin line. Draco Malfoy was in his own world and oddly enough it was not because of Hermione. His mind was a whirl of colour and space. He was trying to relax, to enter a space of complete calm. His veela was becoming too strong in him and now as he was to put his plan of seducing her. His mind needed to be focused and not be succumbed. He was no pansy, he was a Malfoy and what he wanted he got.

Drumming his fingers against the long, thing wooden table he waited for the dinner to end. That he had paid attention to. He was not hungry; it was as if there was a stone in both his stomach and throat was stopping him from eating. He felt full and empty at the same time. The metal thunk of the knives and forks on the plates as students ate their fill. Only picking at his food, Draco wanted to get to his new dorms and go to sleep. _Damn! Hermione will be there as well. I cannot get peace with her near me. _Draco thought while inwardly sighing. Rubbing his temples, Draco wanted to slip away now but Dumbledore called both him and Hermione up to introduce them as the Head Girl and Boy.

Again, Draco paid little or no attention to the surroundings, to the words uttered. He was tired and withdrawn, there was no energy left in his body. He wanted to go to bed. A firm push on his back had Draco following Professor McGonagall to the new dorms. Hermione was walking in line with him, back straight and eyes ahead.

Before he knew it, Draco found himself face to face with a picture of a mermaid and a soldier both loathing the other although there were moments of civility. It broke his heart because the picture had been charmed to show the relationship between the two Heads. Hermione's face had paled too. Denial had been their friend. Neither wanted to face what they were to the other. The civility was noted. _Well that is something that will help me. Note to self, work on civility. She seems to like that. _

Professor McGonagall spoke, "here is your dorm rooms. The password is Nil Satis Nisi Optimum."

_Nothing but the best is good enough. Not very subtle, Dumbledore, not subtle at all. _Draco mused before following Hermione into the rooms. She had gone in while he was thinking. Always in the front, that girl was.

* * *

Stepping in, Draco was –surprisingly- impressed by the room. It was spacious and grand but not too opulent. It was elegant and simple all of the same time. The colours were a gentle mix of red and silver. A unity of the two houses, Draco chuckled. _That is the only way we can unite the Houses. Slytherin and Gryffindor hate each other. _Draco settled into the chair closest the roaring fire in the medieval fireplace watching Hermione trail her fingers over the oak table to the right of the door they had entered in. Beside it was the staircase jutting up into the sky of the ceiling leading to their bedrooms.

Hermione's back to him when Draco became startlingly fidgety. He could not sit still, switching one leg to another. Standing up, Draco could not stay still. Glancing around, he finally forced himself to calm.

Hermione had turned at this point and was staring at Draco eyeing him and watching him. At this point, the veela in him roared to the forefront and Draco lost control of his logical mind. Marching over to Hermione and before she could act or reach for her wand, Draco had placed his hands –roughly- on her cheeks and kissed her passionately. Her lips were soft but unforgiving. Perfectly shaped lips, they were perfect. He did not feel her struggling, fighting, and pushing him away.

The veela was so strong in him that Draco had closed his eyes. Because of this Draco did not see Hermione stretched hand racing towards his face.

* * *

What did you think?

Please tell me what you thought whether it be good, bad or terrible.

Athenarena


	7. Building Bridges Burnt

The Trials and Tribulations of the Heart

Chapter 6: Building Bridges Burnt.

**AN: **I am so sorry that I took so long to update this story! I did not want the chapter to be forced. Also, the muses were more interested in other things and left me wondering in the dark! But they have returned and given me a chapter. I am sorry it took over a month for me to update!

Before I say my thanks I do have an important notice I want to share to you my readers. My notice is in bold.

**I feel that this story is going all wrong, that you my readers do no like it. Again I found myself thinking about ending this story and taking it down. I feel like I have failed you my readers who give up your time in reading this in giving you a decent, high standard story. **

**So please, I am spilt into two minds. What am I doing wrong with this story? Am I doing anything right with it? Should I take it down? **

**I feel that The Trials and Tribulations of the Heart is failing miserably and I do not want that to happen. **

**SO PLEASE HELP! **

**Thank you. **

And now onto my thank yous, I would love to thank every reader that spends time reading this. But if you do not leave me a review or alert I cannot:

**Thank you to: **cullen's pet, voldyismyfather, lovelyru, Avanell and Enilas for their reviews.

**Thank you to: **crusincloud, dc9691, NoReservationsOnLife, Slytherin ice princess, alias93001 cullen's pet, lovelyru, AdrianaSakuraLi and Phsycotic Vodka for their story alerts.

**Thank you to: **dracosere, earth89, Jasmine Potter07 reader2015 and txtingrulesLOL for adding my story to their favourite lists.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything. I write for enjoyment of myself and my fans. I make no money out of it or have any rights to the Harry Potter copyright

Please tell me what you think.

* * *

The veela was so strong in him that Draco had closed his eyes. Because of this Draco did not see Hermione stretched hand racing towards his face.

Smack. The sound bounced off the walls, lay like a carpet on the floor, raced up the stairs to the dormitory until it had exerted all its energy and lay down to sleep like a lazy dog. Draco pulled back immediately, regretting the loss of Hermione's heat on his lips. There was a clear imprint on her hand on his face as if she had used red paint to paint it onto his face. Draco's eyes lost focus for a moment and his balance wavered to the point that a breeze could have made him fall over. Draco was confused and disorientated. He momentarily forgot about his past activity. Shaking the fog from his head, Draco remembered what the veela blood in him had done and cursed loudly inside. He need to build a bridge not burn it down! But the first thing he had done? He had taken a flamethrower and slowly and surely had destroyed the bridge between Hermione and himself. Cursing, he turned to face the fuming muggleborn witch.

Hermione was standing feet apart, arms on her hips, eyes shooting daggers at Malfoy, face as blank as a piece of paper except for anger leaking from over orifice. She was mad as a hatter and ready to kill.

"Who do you think you are Malfoy kissing me like that? I am not one of those sluts you can have at your beck and call. I have a boyfriend and therefore I have somebody. I did not, do not and will ever want to kiss you. So keep your slimy little paws and your greedy little lips off mine. I do not, ever did or will ever desire you to kiss me or do what you just did," Hermione spat before turning on her heel and storming up to her bedroom.

Draco felt a cold draft of wind run through his body and the slam of a heavy wooden oak door leading to the Head Girl dormitory. He felt lonely, actually physically lonely. He wanted her back beside him, talking to him coldly but politely. It was better than the wall, the ice cold looks, the anger she was giving him even though he thoroughly deserved the icy treatment.

Draco collapsed into the nearest chair, his head in his hands with hot salty tears pouring down his face. Draco was at war in himself. There was the logical, Draco Malfoy that had the knowledge and reason that was needed to seduce and win Hermione Granger but the veela in him was ravaging him. The emotions were so strong that sometimes it closed the logical side of his brain shut down completely, adrenaline rushed through his body and emotions ruled him. He had never been like that, he liked balance a decision before doing anything, to be logical before jumping into anything in case –now that with the defeat of Voldermort two years ago, which was the beginning of his second chance- he burned a bridge that he would need or lost a friend he cared for. However, the veela in him that decided to throw caution to the wind and burn the very bridge that he needed to cross because he life depended on it! God, he hated being him sometimes.

* * *

Hermione was fuming, furious and absolutely appalled by what Draco had done. Yet she also slightly liked the idea of kissing Draco. _No! No, no you do not! You have a boyfriend, a good, honest boyfriend. Who can be very dull at times! No! My mind is not rebelling against me. I do not admire Draco –yes you do-, stop it! This is insane! Draco is driving me insane. Draco now? I thought it was only Malfoy._

Gah! Hermione did not like how her mind was rebelling against her. If she was completely honest, her relationship with Ron was dull at times. But she did love him or she was sure that she loved him. Draco Malfoy was complex and mysterious to her. And although she hated his guts she had to admit when she had met her match and Draco Malfoy –although he drove her to despair more times than she could count -most from more than two years ago- he was her match.

But he had taken advantage of her! He had kissed her without her consent, he had mauled her and yet part of her had liked it, even desired to further it. But her morals were saying it was wrong. Damn Draco Malfoy to hell!

Flopping down on her bed –found in the centre of a spacious but spartan room- Hermione stared at the antique wooden ceiling and sighed. No, whatever she thought about the kissing – and she had to admit, Draco Malfoy was a good kisser- they way he had done it was inexcusable. She decided that all manner of contact would be cut or if she had to talk to him about their duties it would be short, to the point and cold. He would have to gain her trust again after what he did. No matter how much Hermione liked it, even though she would never admit it to herself.

* * *

Morning came very slowly for the pair. Neither had slept much. Draco did not look like he had been crying but he had. His hair was all over the place like a great wind had swept through it and Hermione was no different. Her hair had frizzed so much that is looked like a cat was sleeping on her hair. Both were bleary eyed and ignored the other, so it was a peaceful morning. Had they been more awake, bets would have been off on how quickly they would have killed each other. Slowly. With blunted objects.

Luckily, the Heads had different routines so that when one was in the communal bathroom, the other was either in the kitchen area just off the seating room or in their room doing something or another.

Not a word had passed since that infamous incident and the slap afterwards the night prior. Draco and Hermione had an uneasy peace based on not speaking to each other at all. An uneasy Draco was determined to break to apologise. He had the stubbornness of a mule and he was putting it to use here. However, he had not seen Hermione. It was infuriating. He hoped to find her –and preferably in a good mood- and apologise. It would be like climbing Mount Everest and sometimes his pride tried to argue against apologising. But now was not the time for his pride to win. His life depended on him apologising and righting his wrong.

Draco never got the chance to speak to Hermione during the day. She made every effort to avoid him unless forced to talk to him about Head duties. This had been once that day for five minutes where he could not get a word in edgewise and apologise before she had turned on her heel and strode off, without looking back. He was confused and annoyed. She thought he was going to do it again –which was a fair enough thought- but to cut him off like that before he could say anything was just cruel, -in his eyes. _Damn, she is ruthless! A very ruthless woman. But if that is how she wants to play, I can play the same. _

Each class, she sat as far away as she could from her, but that did not mean that either did not feel the stare of the other on the back of their neck during the day. They were just never caught doing it but they could feel it. The continuos stare that bore into their necks and into their souls until they could not move without being watched. Guards up, lines drawn, boundaries set. It would be an up hill battle for Draco to get back into Hermione's good graces but he knew that apologising and admitting guilt, therefore giving her the superior position would be a good and safe start.

The day dragged on until a second was a minute, a minute was an hour and an hour a lifetime. Draco could feel time slowing to a standstill as it mocked him, slowing down so that he was frozen and the opportune time always seemed just outside the grasp of his hand. It was becoming a very frustrating day as Draco knew what he wanted to do but did not have the time when it was best to do it.

* * *

He would not have that chance to apologise until later that night in the dorm room. The fire was roaring and crackling beside him, emitting heat over the over plumped chair Draco was stuffed into although he did not feel on of it. He felt numb, cold, like ice. Hermione walked in, not noticing Draco sitting in the chair. But he had noticed her. As she was striding past, Draco shot up and shouted after her.

"Hermione! I need to talk you."

Hermione turned, her face hardened and her lips set in a scowl, "it is Granger to you Malfoy." But she did not turn away.

Swallowing his pride and other tendencies –Draco Malfoy did not want a repeat of what had happened the night before- Draco spoke as calmly and sincerely as he could.

"Granger, I apologise for taking advantage of you and kissing you like that. I deserved to be hit when you did. I humbly ask your forgiveness for my misdeed to you. I am sorry," Draco stated.

Hermione just started at him for a few moments, before sighing and dropping her bag down by the stairwell Draco and her were standing at the bottom of. Crossing her arms across her chest, Hermione started at Malfoy. She was collecting her thoughts. Finally, the ice and tension was broken.

"Malfoy, I believe in second chance to anyone who shows they deserve it. You have not proved to me you have deserved a second chance after groping me as such last night. You do not deserve my trust of yet. Maybe if you work hard enough I will give you that second chance. But where this goes from now on I decide." Hermione declared.

Draco let out a sigh of relief before nodding.

"Of course Granger. You were the wronged one here and you should be the one to make up what happens next," Draco said.

"Goodnight Malfoy," Hermione replied before picking up her bag and ascending the stairs slowly.

"Goodnight Granger," Draco retorted before returning to the chair and staring at the fire.

Of the bridge he had burned, Draco had restored a thin wire between the two by apologising and by accepting that Hermione was now the one in control.

* * *

What do you think?

Please tell me.

All the best and a big thank you.

Athenarena


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